Kisses and Killings: Permanent Placement Program
by FalselyTrue
Summary: Welcome to a world where the best hide undercover in the streets of Roseville. Welcome to a world were nothing is as it seems. Welcome to the world of Andi, DeeDee, Carlos and Will--Welcome to the Permanent Placement Program. Welcome to Hell.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Kisses and Killings; Permanent Placement Program**

**Summary: Welcome to a world where the best hide in the streets of Roseville. Welcome to a world where nothing is as it seems. Welcome to the world of Andi, DeeDee, Carlos and Will--Welcome to the Permanent placement Program. Welcome to hell.**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Contains references to violence, self-harm, mental disorders and possibly sex.**

**Disclaimer: I haven't ever owned the Gallagher Girls.**

**Claimer: I own Andrea Jones, Carlos Ruiz, William Marr and the Permanent Placement Program.**

**A/N: Welcome to the re-write of The Permanent Placement Program! This one will hopefully be better than the original. Expect updates on Mondays; if I can't I'll post an A/N.**

* * *

Being a girl is hard enough, but fitting a few extra names and lives into that knockoff designer purse alongside that all important lip-gloss is even harder.

Believe me on that, I know.

See, in the whole world, there are about a thousand people who are unique, people who are more different than you'd ever even think.

They're all under the age of eighteen, and all of them have double lives.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like they're cheating on girlfriends or boyfriends or something like that. The percentage on THAT is WAY higher.

Alright, flat out, I'm a 3P-T/LUSR/U42/91.

In human terms, I'm a Permanent Placement Program Trainee, Located in the US, specifically Roseville, and a part of Unit 42. My ID number is 91.

To clear that up, there's a group of non-normal kids in the world. In Roseville, there are four of us.

There's me, of course.

There's my partner, Carlos Ruiz.

There's my leader, DeeDee Thompson.

And her counterpart, Will Marr.

The four of us are a team, a seamless unit. We've been together since we were in diapers, for God's sake!

We're part of the Permanent Placement Program, as I mentioned earlier. We abbreviate it as Three-Pee, 3P, but we ourselves are Three-Pee-Dash-Tees. 3P-Ts.

Basically, the Permanent Placement Program is for spies born and bred. We've lived in regular families, with regular lives, going to regular schools, having regular lives, being regular kids.

We don't gossip about that cheerleader cheating on her jock boyfriend, we don't bond over chick flicks and shopping. We gossip about the new level 8 uranium powered gun that we may or may not get to use, we bond over stun guns and suicide rings.

We are never, ever, regular. God, I hate that word, because after the school bell rings, we are new people, never regular people. Who are we really?

Spies.

Naturally, the rest of the world—even the spy world—doesn't know about us. We're that good, that high level of clearance.

My own cousin, one Tina Walters, doesn't even know I'm a spy, and she's one herself! All she knows is that her cousin, Andi, has always been a bit sneakier than normal people, but she passed that off as nosiness.

That's a good thing, really, because I don't want her to be involved in the 3P world. She's a coveops spy in her sheltered little world. She needs to stay there. It's safer.

The downside to the cool word with the stun guns and the world travel and the missions for what you believe is right...well, people die. You learn things you never wanted to know. You make lifelong friends and have them die in your arms. Your first kiss is someone's last breath. You see people bend until the break and then you have to step on the pieces. You watch as someone you love is tortured. But you get the lifelong friends—for however long your life may be. You get the cool stories to tell your children—if you even live long enough for that to happen. You get the beautiful thrills and the terrifying falls. You're a spy. It's amazing.

You may be wondering why spy parents don't enroll their children in the 3P-T world. Simple. They don't know about us. And they never will. We're too dangerous, too volatile. We've been trained for this our whole lives—there's nothing else we know how to do. You back out, you die.

It's a horrible thing, but it something we have to do. We're 3P-Ts. Eventually we'll be 3P-Fs, and 3P-Bs. Permanent Placement Program Field and Permanent Placement Program Base.

Think of it this way—if spies watch other governments, who watches them?

We do. For as long as there have been spies and governments, there's been us. We keep them in line—and to keep us from getting too powerful, no 3P lives beyond the age of 40. We don't have wheezy old guys teaching us stuff—it's twenty-five year olds and thirty-six year olds passing on their knowledge. No one can get too self-important; if they do, they die. The job is simply too dangerous. Some die before twenty—friends of mine are among them.

As for us 3P-T's, we're fairly new. The junior division was only created recently. Only thirty years ago we were started. It's a secret, learning about us. And it's a dangerous one. The woman we know as DeeDee's mother isn't her mother. Really, it's a secret agent pretending to be her mother, since her own mother was killed just for knowing who we were.

It's a horrible burden, and taxing, too. It's a strain not to kill that boy in your English class that won't quit asking you out.

But don't mind me. I'm just a high school girl. You never heard of me being a spy. I'm only Andrea Jones, a high school freshman.

You don't know anything about me. And if you're lucky, you never will.

But someone does have to know, and unfortunately, that's you. All of us 3Ps have to keep records now, so everyone can see what we've done on missions. No one believes them—they think they're novels. But they're not.

God, I wish they were. The past year has shown me everything I thought I knew was terribly, terribly wrong. But even when I thought it was right and perfect and still fun and games, I was still a person. Even now, I am, I suppose.

It just doesn't feel like it anymore.

But since my record started back when I was still naïve, that's where it'll begin for you. I warn you—it will become dark and depressing, sad and upsetting…but I lived through it. You can do me a favor and read a few pages.

C'mon, it won't hurt…much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Kisses and Killings; Permanent Placement Program**

**Summary: Welcome to a world where the best hide in the streets of Roseville. Welcome to a world where nothing is as it seems. Welcome to the world of Andi, DeeDee, Carlos and Will--Welcome to the Permanent placement Program. Welcome to hell.**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Contains references to violence, self-harm, mental disorders and possibly sex.**

**Disclaimer: I haven't ever owned the Gallagher Girls.**

**Claimer: I own Andrea Jones, Carlos Ruiz, William Marr and the Permanent Placement Program. I also own the minor OCs.**

**A/N: Here's where we meet everyone. This chapter is very lighthearted--not much of worth happens here. Something I'd like to address is that I'm writing the novel equivilant of this as well, so I'd appreciate if you didn't copy my work or take my idea. This means a lot to me.**

**

* * *

**

"Come on, Andi! We're going to be late!" My second-most obnoxious older brother, Dillon, was yelling for me to get in the car so we could get to the carnival. I think he was meeting his best friend, Josh, there.

Personally, I was going to be hanging out with Carlos, DeeDee and Will. This was one of the few nights we got off. I was going to enjoy it, dammit, before I had to do something tomorrow night, Monday night. But if I knew my friends, DeeDee and Will would get into a fight and I'd get dragged off with DeeDee while Carlos was pulled in the opposite direction by Will.

Our Roseville Faire (yes, it was spelled that way, no matter HOW retarded everyone thought it was) was a four-night event. The first night involved a parade and a lot of rides, fundraising for the city. The second night involved a bunch of contests, like "best pie" and "biggest pumpkin". Yeah, we live in a somewhat farm town. I'd rather be in New York, personally, but I've heard that the 3P-Ts up there are weak. Therefore, I am not there.

The third night is when prizes are awarded, and everything's just open. The fourth night is a Monday, and it's one last chance to do everything before they close it down and take it apart the next day.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, chowder-head, no need to wet yourself!" I yelled back.

"Andi!" My mom isn't a spy, so she hasn't ever heard me cuss a blue-streak when there's a guy holding a gun to my head. Hopefully, she'll never get to knowing it, because if she does—_bang_! She's dead. I like my mother alive, thank you, no matter how naïve she is. Well, I guess she might know. It's hard to keep a secret like this. But if she knows, she doesn't let on.

"Sorry, Mom! I'll be there in five!"

"Can you hurry up at least?" Dillon yelled back, and I snorted. Ask a girl to hurry up when it was probably the only time in the next six months she actually had time to look somewhat pretty?

Just go ask the waves to stop crashing on the beach. It'd be easier.

I put my straightening iron down and grabbed my green hairclip, the one with the rhinestone daisy on it. Yeah, it's immature, but that's who I am.

I pulled my jean-jacket on over my knee-length white dress. It was kinda lacey, but it was mostly white cotton. Green embroidery decorated the hem, and it was pretty much the only dress I'd ever wear. Underneath, I had my jean shorts on, just because something ALWAYS happens, and I have a feeling I'll need them. I pulled on my sandals and headed downstairs, grabbing my green over-the-shoulder bag and cell phone on the way.

In the garage, my older siblings, all three of them, were waiting. There's Keith, who's eighteen, Dillon, who's sixteen, and Caitlyn, who's twenty. I'm the baby of the family, at fourteen.

Of course, the baby of the family is the one with the most dangerous life. Caity's a 3P too. So is Dad. But the boys and Mom have no clue whatsoever, just that Caity and I always had bruises from "tripping over furniture" when were younger, and heavy involvement in an exclusive club.

I have no clue what Dad told Mom, but whatever it was, she believed it.

"There you are, Andi, I thought you'd take another decade!" Caity laughed at Keith's expression.

"She's a girl, Key. She's going to take a while." To me, she added, "Nice dress. Where'd you get it?"

"Old Navy, if you can believe it. They had this FANTASTIC sale last week; you totally should've been there!" I squealed, forgetting what I was doing.

Dillon and Keith gagged in unison. They're not so big on the fashion thing, although they both hate when I wear anything too "Revealing". Which is once every millennium, honestly. Because I have to wear mission ready clothes at almost all times. DeeDee and I ran an experiment awhile ago and got results: it's pretty much physically impossible to look hot and be a good fighter. Your makeup is going to smear from sweat and you're going to get bruises and cuts in inopportune places, your hair will get messed up and the less clothes you wear, the bigger of a target you are. It's science, done my way.

Mom hurried out the door into the garage, carrying a plate of brownies and her purse. Dad followed her, carrying a pie.

"Okay, Andi, you're going with Caity, boys, you're with us." Mom informed them, passing the plate of brownies to Dillon and digging in her purse for keys. "And if a single one of those brownies goes missing, I will know who to blame, honey. And you will not like the consequences."

That's what I love about my mom. She's 39, has four kids, and could pass as the nicest lady you've ever/will ever meet, yet she can make my sixteen year old brother flinch and murmur, "Yes, mommy…" with a single sentence.

So I got into Caity's blue Honda Accord while Dad, Mom, Keith and Dillon piled into Mom's SUV.

Caity pulled out smoothly and we spent the next five minutes chatting about shopping, etcetera. Then Caity's tone turned serious.

"Hey, An, what's up with you and the Carlos guy?" she asked, glancing over at me and then back at the road.

"We're partners, Caity, like you and Seph," I replied, reminding her of Joseph Feiling, her partner. I was fiddling with the hem of my skirt, folding and smoothing it.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out." Right. They fell in love. I'd forgotten about that. "Andi…falling in love with your partner is stupid, and dangerous, and you'll just end up getting hurt."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm not in love with him. I just have a teeny-tiny crush on him. I'll get over it." I flipped my hair over my shoulder, my fingers brushing against my dangly silver earrings.

Caity just gave me a Look, and shook her head. "Just keep it in mind, kay?"

Look, here's the deal with me and Carlos. We have a total love-hate relationship going on. My brother once commented that we'd either kill each other or be best friends, because we're so alike it's kinda freaky. We're best friends, but that's only half the story. The other half is confusing and convoluted and I can't really think of another con-word, so there you go. I like Carlos, and he knows it. Carlos likes me and I know it. I like Carlos and everyone knows it. Carlos likes me and everyone knows it. Even my older sister, who's off on missions 95% of the time, knows it. We like each other, but the probability of either of us ever dating or getting together or anything is 0%. We're spies. We don't have relationships. It'll just hurt you in the end. It's not like in the movies or in storybooks, how the girl gets the guy and everything turns out perfectly, despite the circumstances. It just doesn't happen that way.

That's especially true for 3P-Ts, because, in actuality, none of the 3P-Fs have ever passed the age of 35. Cameron Morgan's father, [find first name] Morgan, was a 3P. He died at 33, when his daughter was only 11. The only exception to that rule is Joe Solomon, but he's an exception to a lot of things. He's the only to be 38, a 3P-F, and the only one to have started 3P-T in high school after attending Blackthorne. We don't know how much longer he's going to live—and neither does he.

But this is why I'm worried for my sister. She's 20, and though she's good by spy standards, she's not the best. And only the best really survive in this world. Carlos isn't the best either. And I don't want to see him dead while I care about him so much. That's why I try not to care. But it doesn't always work.

We pulled into the parking lot and, well, parked.

I climbed out and checked my cell. A text awaited me from Carlos.

_ Meet the 3s by the Ferris wheel._

"I gotta go meet DeeDee by the Ferris wheel, so see you later?"

"Meet me here at ten." Caity replied absently as she pulled her own cell out.

"Later!" I told her, and dashed off.

I saw DeeDee a few hundred feet away—she always dresses in pink when we're not on missions. She and Will were talking animatedly, probably arguing. Again.

That seems to be their forte. They almost never get along, but I'm convinced that she's got a crush on him and vice versa. I've never told them because I'm fairly certain that if I did, I'd be in a LOT of pain two minutes later. And also: interfering might bring them together, and that would just result in heartbreak for the both of them.

Carlos was leaning against the wall of the library, watching disinterestedly as DeeDee pointed at something and Will shook his head and pointed another direction. I slipped up and stood next to Carlos while DeeDee and Will kept arguing.

DeeDee kept shaking her head, her pink tasseled hat's pompoms shaking furiously, along with her semi-curly blonde hair. If DeeDee was the All-American girl, Will was the All-American guy, brown hair, brown eyes, the whole nine yards. Me and Carlos were the odd ones out here. He had a Hispanic-Asian-American background, and I had a German-French-Asian-American background. I know those both sound convoluted and difficult to follow, but they're really not. Carlos's mom is Asian, and his dad is half Hispanic, half Caucasian. He doesn't really look Hispanic, but he got a Hispanic name because his grandmother on his dad's side insisted. On the other hand, his younger brother, Dominic, doesn't have a Hispanic name, but definitely looks Hispanic.

As for me, my mom is half-French, half-Asian (my grandparents have the weirdest food when we go to their house because Grandma mixes Papa's French tastes with her Asian tastes and I don't even like thinking about that sushi cordon-bleu we had last time) and my dad is German-Irish, but he'd renounced Ireland because of becoming an American spy, so I don't know if I'm still part Irish or if that's just a "gap" in my heritage. Caity looks more Asian than I do, and I look more European than she does, but we're still sisters. And then Keith looks like Caity and Dillon looks like me. On missions, when we need a cover, I often pass for Will's younger sister, but in reality, we aren't related at all. Actually, I look more like Will than I do Caity, but I'm really quite sure that Caity's my sister, and that Will's not my brother. DNA tests have proven it.

"What're they arguing about this time?" I whispered to Carlos, who still looked bored, by the way.

"Um, DeeDee wants to go on the roller coaster while Will would rather go on the Ferris wheel. It's kinda stupid, I think. They can just go on both. Or they can split up." Apparently, DeeDee and Will heard him because they promptly shut up.

Silence reigned for a total of ten seconds until DeeDee turned to me and grabbed my arm to tow me off, calling over her shoulder, "I'm taking Andi and we're going to ride the roller coaster and you two can go on the lame Ferris wheel!"

Will snorted, grabbed Carlos's arm and dragged him the other way. You could hear Carlos protesting the whole way, too ("But I don't WANT to go on the Ferris Wheel, can't I go with them? Ow, Will, that hurts, lemme go, ow!") and then they turned a corner.

Once DeeDee and I got out of their sight and hearing range, she dropped my arm. "Wanna go get a funnel cake?"

I glanced at her knowingly. "Scared of the coaster?" We stood at the end of the relatively short line. "Powdered sugar and chocolate syrup?"

"Damn right I am. There's no way that thing is safe. They're constructed and destructed in an hour, I don't think they'll hold up under a ton of screaming kids." DeeDee informed me, pulling a pink makeup compact out of her ever-present tote. "And yes, please. Are we splitting?" She flipped open the lid of her compact and fluffed her hair. She then pressed her finger onto the pink "eye shadow" and the mirror turned into a little map, complete with four flashing red dots that represented us 3Ps.

"Wanted to go because Will would've liked it?" I asked, then thought about the funnel cake. "Can we not split? Or will that mean a few dozen more laps around the track?"

"Pretty much, yeah. And I think I can let it slide this once. It's our night off. Tomorrow night, you do that, I'm making you run five between here and Gallagher. And I'll get Will and Carlos too, if they try anything stupid, like I'm pretty sure they are now…what exactly are they doing at the kiddie rides? Are Will and Carlos sitting their sibs?"

"Why don't you just tell him you like him? And aww…really? Harshness! And I really have no clue. I think Will mentioned something about spending some time with Bailey and Dominic." Bailey was Will's adorable younger brother, and as I said before, Dominic was Carlos's younger brother. We were at the window now, and I ordered. "Um, two funnel cakes, powdered sugar and chocolate syrup on both, whipped cream on one."

"Both, actually." DeeDee chimed in, tucking her pseudo compact back into her purse.

"Okay, that'll be six dollars." Lily Carter, one of my classmates was the girl behind the booth. "How're you guys? You're always so busy with…what was it?"

"Advanced Academics Placement." DeeDee answered absently, pulling her white leather Hello Kitty wallet out of her tote. She unzipped it and pulled a five and a one out, handed Lily the money and plopped it right back into her bag. It was a red, pink, yellow and orange tote with hearts and Mickey Mouse faces on it—and she almost never let it out of her sight. I had to wake her up one morning and she was cuddling it in her sleep. I do that with my green shoulder bag when it's not necessary to dress up, but DeeDee's is kinda weird. During missions, stuff that we need randomly is found in there—we call it DeeDee's bag of tricks. We haven't figured out how it all fits in there—and we're not really asking, either.

"Right, right." Lily nodded while I tried to protest DeeDee paying.

"Shut up, Andi, it's my treat. So, Lily, how's cheerleading going for you? The squad's really tough on underclassman and newbies. You holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for those self-defense tips, though."

We chatted with Lily for a while until our funnel cakes were ready, then waved and headed off.

We sat on a bench and picked at the funnel cakes. I scooped the whipped cream off with my fingers and licked it off while DeeDee ate more neatly.

The two of us were as close as me and Caity, if not closer. DeeDee's about a year and a half older, fifteen going on sixteen in like three weeks, October sixteenth, in fact. Caity's always been busy and DeeDee's been my best friend since forever. Well, kinda. Carlos is my best guy friend, but DeeDee's my girl friend. You can't exactly talk to your male partner about monthly female issues. They just don't understand.

We sat and watched the people, laughing and chatting. We blended like we belonged because…well, we did belong. This was our home. Then something occurred to me.

"Weren't you going to meet up with Josh, Dillon and Keith?" I asked as I finished the last bit of funnel cake on my flimsy paper plate.

DeeDee smacked her hand to her forehead. "Yes!" she groaned. "I totally forgot! And Will's going to be there! Crap, this is not good." She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "Andi…"

"No! Not again! I'm not lying to my brothers."

"But…but…but…Andi!" she whined.

"No! You're going to have to face him at some point, might as well do it now! And this way, he can't yell at you about the roller coaster thing."

DeeDee just grinned wickedly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Kisses and Killings; Permanent Placement Program**

**Summary: Welcome to a world where the best hide in the streets of Roseville. Welcome to a world where nothing is as it seems. Welcome to the world of Andi, DeeDee, Carlos and Will--Welcome to the Permanent placement Program. Welcome to hell.**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Contains references to violence, self-harm, mental disorders and possibly sex.**

**Disclaimer: I haven't ever owned the Gallagher Girls.**

**Claimer: I own Andrea Jones, Carlos Ruiz, William Marr and the Permanent Placement Program. I also own the minor OCs.**

**A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Again, very lighthearted--nothing major happens here. Everything starts to go deeper beginning the next chapter. ALSO: A Beta would be nice to have. Any recommendations?**

**

* * *

**

"I cannot believe you dragged me into this." I grouched, sitting next to DeeDee and Carlos while everyone else (including my brothers, Josh Abrams, Will, and about eight other kids who were in their junior year) chatted and laughed. "I cannot be seen with my brothers. This is beyond embarrassing. This will ruin my social life."

"What social life?" Carlos pointed out. "Last I knew, you spent all your time practicing your left side kicks, which, you're still not getting high enough, by the way. I'd think that being on the gymnastics team, you could at least get a decent snap kick going." I glared at him.

"Let me have my teenage angst-fest, Ruiz. I don't get to have these often, unlike you." DeeDee rolled her eyes. "I saw that."

DeeDee snorted. "I never get bored sitting with you two…It's like a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth...It's a good thing you're best friends, or I have a feeling you would've murdered each other back in second grade. You're either going to end up killing each other or marrying each other. I'm leaning towards the marrying each other option. It sounds like _flirting_ to me!"

Together, Carlos and I smacked her (she was in between us) and (in unison) said "Whatever."

"But seriously, this is ruining any chance I have, however slim that might be, of a social life."

"Wouldn't that be the opposite way around? You'll get a popularity boost, being seen with the high-prof juniors, while you're still a lowly freshman?"

"They're not cool. I'm cool. They wish they were as cool as me." I fluffed my hair and smiled smugly. Carlos laughed and DeeDee giggled.

"Oh, you know you love me." I shook my head in disappointment at my friend's disbelief.

"You sure? I think we were considering replacing you." DeeDee informed me with a straight face, and playing along, I wailed, "Noooo!"

We dissolved into laughter as passerby gave us weird looks. Will came over and we talked for awhile about nothing at all, meaningless chatter about the Advanced Academics Program or the gymnastics team or the baseball team.

Since we do need extracurriculars to not appear strange, we picked clubs that would help us get stronger and faster, as well as make friends and have something other to do than just 3P. I was on the gymnastics team, but DeeDee was a cheerleader, Will a baseball player and Carlos a member of the Karate team. That way, people didn't get as suspicious when we had to pull out of activities for "Advanced Academics" or "Got sick" all at the same time, since we weren't in the same clubs or on the same teams. DeeDee wasn't a key member of the squad, and I wasn't a star gymnast. Will deliberately played down his baseball skills and Carlos kept it low key. That way, we wouldn't really be missed when we pulled out for a mission.

After a few minutes of just watching other people, I asked, "What are we doing here, anyways?"

"Um, DeeDee didn't want to be alone so she dragged you here and Will didn't want to be alone so he dragged me here?"

"How're they alone? There's like a dozen different people here that they could talk to. They don't need us, and it's kinda stupid that they dragged us here."

"Yeah." We fell into silence for a few seconds.

"Can we at least go on a ride or something? This is just wasting daylight."

"What daylight? It's nine-thirty at night!" Carlos said, drawing in the dirt with a stick he'd apparently picked up.

"I don't care! It's an expression!"

"Well, you should've said wasn't moonlight! It would've been politically correct!"

"How is that politically correct? Wouldn't it've been technically correct, not politically?"

"I don't know, politically just sounded cooler!" Carlos said, exasperated, throwing his hands up into the air along with the stick, managing to hit Josh in the head. "Sorry, man!" He called, and turned back to me. "But seriously, why didn't you just say you were wasting moonlight?"

"Because wasting daylight sounded cooler! And the sun hasn't even set yet!"

"Yes it has!"

"No, it hasn't! Hey!" I yelped as Carlos tickled my sides. DeeDee burst out giggling while I laughed full out.

"Tennis match!" DeeDee sang out, laughing even harder.

"That's it. I'm out. There's no way I'm staying here. I'm gonna go track down Caity. I think she's with Seph and the younger sibs. Later."

I stood and stretched, then grabbed my bag, then left the small area, digging through my bag to find my phone.

"Hey, Jones, I'm coming too!" a voice called from behind me.

I halted and turned at Carlos's familiar voice.

"Besides, DeeDee stole your phone. I thought I should give it back."

"Give." I held out my hand and he dropped my Samsung Intensity onto my palm. "And I know that's not the reason. Spill."

He grinned, and my heart flipped, just a bit. "I gotta go find Dominic, since I'm pretty sure he's drowning in cotton candy by now."

"Since I'm the youngest, I'm going to go drown in cotton candy myself...don't tell DeeDee…or Will."

He raised an eyebrow.

"We had funnel cakes earlier, and she threatened everyone with five laps to Gallagher and back." Carlos winced.

"Seriously? That's like, what, two miles each way? Twenty miles?" he asked as we turned a corner. I saw Casey, DeeDee's younger sister, waving at us and waved back.

"Yeah. Being her, she'd probably make us do marathon."

"But doesn't she need Will's approval?"

"Yeah, and she'd get it. Will's head-over-heels for her." My phone buzzed and I checked my texts as our conversation continued.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Oh, hey, I gotta go find my mom. Something about brownies and pies…I think she's debating with Mrs. Abrams."

Carlos laughed. "Yeah, you might want to break that one up. Later, Jones."

"Later, Ruiz." I waved and headed off for the bake sale tents.

.

At ten, I headed back off to catch a ride with Caity. She was waiting by her Accord, and we got home before everyone else.

I sat on the kitchen counter and was drinking a glass of milk when the rest of the family walked in.

"Hey, honey. You have fun?" Mom asked cheerfully.

"Mostly." I finished my milk and dropped off the counter. I rinsed out the glass and put it in the dishwasher. Then I headed for the stairs—it was bedtime.

"'Night, Mom!" I called.

"Night, Andi!" I heard her laugh, and then the fridge door opened and shut.

I turned into the room I shared with Caity when she came to visit and grabbed my jammies to go change in the bathroom.

I had to wait for Dillon to finish first, though, but then I got the bathroom. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth, then went to bed.

Caity was already asleep on the second bed in my room, so I left the light off and just crawled into bed with my flashlight and my code text book.

I read until maybe midnight, taking notes so I'd be ready for my test tomorrow , then turned my flashlight off and went to sleep.

.

At eight AM, my alarm went off. Thankfully, it was a Saturday, and I got a full hour more sleep than I normally did.

Caity, of course, was already up and moving by seven—she always was, rain or shine, day off or workday.

Since I didn't have to meet DeeDee until nine, I grabbed my Calc textbook and my math notebook and headed downstairs.

I staked claim to the counter, spreading my notes, papers and textbooks all over it. I finished my Calc homework in about half an hour—I now had fifteen minutes to dress, do my hair, eat and then ten to get to DeeDee's.

I gathered up my books, and went upstairs, dumping them on my bed. I went and changed into jean cutoffs, a dark green tank top and a mint green button down that I didn't button. I wore it like a jacket instead.

I dragged a brush through my hair and, as a second thought, grabbed a ponytail holder and stuck it in my pocket.

Ten minutes later, I'd finished eating and had grabbed my gym clothes, mission gear and anything I thought I might need, and tossed it into my bag. I swung my shoulder bag on and hoisted my gym bag.

"Caity! Can I get a ride to DeeDee's?" I asked, using the kicked puppy look she'd taught me, and she laughed.

"Sure. I gotta get over to Seph's anyway, and he's like a block down from her house. Just lemme get my stuff."

Five minutes later, Caity was back down the stairs and we were off.

I got to DeeDee's at nine on the dot.

As I walked up to ring her doorbell, she opened the door and yanked me in.

"Are—" I started to ask but she cut me off.

"Carlos and Will aren't here. They're at Will's. You're with me on this one. We're going to meet at the 101 at noon to discuss today's mission." She informed me, dragging me up the stairs to her (pink) bedroom. The 101 was the short name for the Highway 101 diner. It had this retro fifties theme, and it also had the most awesome coin operated jukebox. Yes, I'm a sucker for the jukebox. Tell anyone, and I will find a way to defenestrate you (by the way, defenestrate is a fancy word meaning "to throw you out the window", so now you've got the jist of what I'm saying).

We always meet at the 101 to talk about missions. I don't technically or officially know why, since it's a way public place, but my unofficial reasoning for why we meet there is because no one actually takes what you say in a public place seriously. Not to mention the jukebox is always blasting, so you can barely hear the people at your table, much less the people at the table next to you.

DeeDee's younger sister, Casey, waved at me pityingly from the kitchen. She was eight, but she didn't look a thing like DeeDee. She was adopted, for one thing. Well, kinda sorta. Her parents, DeeDee's mom's sister and her husband, died in a car crash. Casey, being the only child, was sent to her aunt and uncle's home. She was only two at the time and didn't remember a thing.

DeeDee was forever doing makeovers on her, with her reddish brown hair and big blue eyes. Well, when we had time, anyway.

DeeDee dragged me into her (pink) room and handed me a thin manila file.

"We've got a mission. You ready?"

.

**R&R**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Kisses and Killings; Permanent Placement Program**

**Summary: Welcome to a world where the best hide in the streets of Roseville. Welcome to a world where nothing is as it seems. Welcome to the world of Andi, DeeDee, Carlos and Will--Welcome to the Permanent placement Program. Welcome to hell.**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Contains references to violence, self-harm, mental disorders and possibly sex.**

**Disclaimer: I haven't ever owned the Gallagher Girls.**

**Claimer: I own Andrea Jones, Carlos Ruiz, William Marr and the Permanent Placement Program. I also own the minor OCs.**

**A/N: AGAIN, not much action. My problem is that in the beginning, I always take too long to get everything started. More expl****anations--but it's also over 3,000 words. As for character pics, there are new ones on my profile. I'm trying to find a better DeeDee, since the one I have makes her look really old. Will and Carlos and Andi are fine--if anyone listens to PureNRG, Carolyne (the brunette girl) is exactly like I imagined Andi to look like. If anyone has any ideas for DeeDee, it would be awesome if you could pass them on.**

**Another thing: I'm working on a Good Luck Charlie story, and that'll cut into my writing time. So updates will probably be every other week on Monday, from now on. I'm sorry! Once summer comes along, it should be more rapid!**

**And also, if I could get a couple reviews, that would be great. I don't want to keep writing this if no one reads it. Thank you!**

**

* * *

**

"We've got a mission. You ready?"

.

"Are you kidding me? We've been cooling our heels for a month, it's about time we got a mission! Um, Dee? What's this for?" Usually we get USBs because we have extensive covers and difficult missions. Manila folders were basically unheard of with us. It meant it was something small and simple, and why would you waste a good group of agents on something even a spy or even a Regular could do?

Here's the thing: Most 3Ps are disdainful of regular people, but they especially hate spies, ESPECIALLY Blackthorne and Gallagher trained spies. We often think that if they can't figure out we're here, they're not very good. On the flip side, we think that we're much better than them because they can't figure us out—either way, no self-respecting 3P considers themselves equal to a regular spy, and certainly not a regular person. We're on a whole other level—even though we're just good at not getting caught. Myself, I have a respect for them. They can hide from Regulars (non-spy people) and they can have their own world. We're the same, in essence. And Spies are just another thing we have to hide from. So there's resentment there…and in the end, most 3Ps just end up bitter. Luckily, we 3P-Ts have escaped that, so far, at least.

"That's the basics. It's a cut and dried thing. But we've also got that test on codes through the ages, development and use of that we promised we'd have finished and turned in by this afternoon."

I groaned and pulled my pencil case out of my bag. "Let's just get that over with, before we do anything else."

DeeDee nodded and handed me a thick white booklet, before grabbing her own and starting with a (glittery pink) pencil.

I rolled my eyes and opened it the test to begin.

Yeah, my life isn't always glamorous or exciting—right now, it's just plain boring. I mean, I know we'll need the ASCII code sometime in our lifetime, but counting out the letters and putting them in the right order is boring. _Really_ boring.

And then there's the various history of who created them, why, when they were most used, who used them the most, when we'd be likely to encounter them and how we'd be expected to use them, etcetera. Add to that a six thousand word essay IN CODE on the history of the ciphers.

I'm going to skip over the next two and a half hours, because it bored ME out of my mind, and I literally LIVE for this stuff and I know it'll bore everyone else.

So to fill in that time space, I'll give you some whatever "Funfacts".

Fact #1. I've never been out in the field. I'm a 3P-D-T, technically, which means that Will, DeeDee and Carlos go out into the field, and I tell them what they need to do, create the gadgets, etc.

Fact #2. DeeDee is a total wallflower. She's unnoticeable anywhere, even though she's the seductess. She and Cammie are kinda similar in that way. They know they're beautiful, but they hide it. They blend in, even though they could stand out. And yes, I just said Carlos was beautiful. Go ahead and snicker.

Fact #3. There are four lists posted in our HQ. "There's a reason we don't let Andi…" "Carlos is not allowed to do anything on this list, under pain of expulsion from school…" "If Will does any of the following he will be promptly defenestrated and have his butt kicked by Carlos…" and "DeeDee's Seductress Scores and Seductees are…" None of us are happy about them.

Fact #4. My list is the shortest; Will's is the longest. The lists go in order of height. I am the shortest (5'5), Carlos is three inches taller than me (5'8" and very annoyed at it), DeeDee is two inches taller than him (5'10" and bemoans it every day) and Will is an inch taller than her (5'11").

Once we FINALLY finished our tests, DeeDee took our tests and sealed them in a large manila envelope, which she dropped into her purse.

I then picked up the folder she'd given me earlier and flipped through it.

"So our mission is to search out and find three operatives trying to find what Mr. Smith drinks with his funnel cakes, make sure they're not seen and basically be undercover agents?"

"Yeah." DeeDee had logged onto her (pink) laptop and was typing something.

"What does he think we are? Kindergarteners?" Well, third grade, technically. Fourth grade we blew up many, many buildings (you didn't hear this from me) and fifth grade we went on our first mission. We stole and replaced the Mona Lisa. It was a piece of cake—the security wasn't even hard to hack!

"Nah, it's a brush-up. Apparently, next week we get to work on demolition. We're blowing up a building and searching the wreckage." My jaw literally dropped. WE ARE NOT THAT IMMATURE. That was fourth grade!

"Again, are we kindergarteners?!" I yelped.

"You know, that's exactly what Carlos said."

"Really?"

"No. Will's breaking that news to him now." DeeDee spun in her swivel chair and stretched, her pale fingers reaching for the ceiling. "Andi?"

"Hmm?" I answered absently, flicking through a book she'd had on her shelf.

"If…If I dropped out of the 3Ps, would you be mad?"

"Hell yeah." Normally I didn't swear so much, but she was talking about the equivalent of suicide here! "You're our leader, therefore, it is our responsibility to keep you here. If there's something wrong, we'll talk you through it. We're a unit, Dee. Where'd this come from? What's bugging you? If it's Josh or Dillon, I'll kick their butts."

"Oh, nothing…I was just wondering." She waved it off, but she was fingering her silver bracelet, like she always did when she was nervous.

I put the book down. "Spill."

She shook her head. "It's nothing, really."

I gave her a look but let it drop. If DeeDee wasn't going to talk, then we weren't getting anywhere. I turned back to the book, absently checking the cover for the title. It was a battered copy of The Demon King, by Cinda Williams Chima.

"We should get going if we're going to get to the 101." DeeDee spoke up, closing her laptop. "You can bring your bag, if you want."

"Do you mind if I leave it?"

"Nah. Just put it on my bed." I did, and we left, DeeDee's ever present tote bag slung over her shoulder. We had half an hour to get there, half a mile to walk and not much to talk about. We got there about twenty minutes early.

DeeDee grabbed a booth while I headed straight for the jukebox. I lined up two songs, two of my favorites, Rock Around the Clock, performed by Bill Haley and His Comets, and Lollipop, the original version, by Ronald and Ruby. I loved music from the 1950s, and a lot of oldies, I guess. If Rock Around the Clock is my favorite, then I guess that Be-Bop-A-Lula, by Gene Vincent is my second favorite, but since they don't have Be-Bop-A-Lula in their jukebox, I just went with my third favorite, Lollipop. I really like anything from the 1950s, and I even have an old record player and old records my grandma was going to throw away.

Three songs passed, including Rock Around the Clock, so DeeDee and I were singing along to Lollipop when the boys got there.

Carlos plopped down next to me while DeeDee slid over to make room for Will.

I kept singing, my voice cracking and singing horribly off key from trying not to laugh. That, and I have like no singing talent whatsoever.

When the song ended, I pretended to bow and wave to "Fans". Carlos fake-punched me in the arm and I pretended to be hurt. I smacked him back, and this turned into a mini slap-fight.

Will glared at us and we froze in utterly ridiculous poses. DeeDee glared and we calmed down and started acting normal.

"Okay, so our mission is a Kindergarten one?" I asked, and Will nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Since they don't have a younger group, we get stuck with it. And it's because Mr. Solomon wants to see how good his new Cove-Ops class is. He said we can be sloppy if we want, make crucial errors, he just wants to see what they can do." He rolled his eyes, and DeeDee laughed.

"So it's a warm up?" I asked.

"Precisely, Miss Jones." Mr. Solomon had come up and was standing next to our booth. Everyone knew he had been listening in, since we'd seen him when we came in. He pulled up a chair and sat at the edge of the table. "You'll be doing the demolition mission as a warm-up as well, and then we have to send you to Vermont for the weekend. You're doing an exchange with a group of 3Ps there next semester, and no, Mr. Ruiz, that does not necessarily mean you're going to change schools. They're coming here and you're giving them some help for a full semester."

We all nodded, and the Jukebox burst into Elvis Presley's Jailhouse Rock. DeeDee's Mom, who was a 3P teacher like Mr. Solomon, came over and asked us for our order. We kids got milkshakes and two baskets of fries to split while Mr. Solomon didn't get anything. Hey, we can handle the calories. We exercise a _lot_, even me, who sits at a desk rather than going and kicking butt. DeeDee makes sure we stay in shape…under threat of Triathlon.

Speaking of which… DeeDee gives me a pointed glare and goes, "Obstacle course this afternoon. You're not eating that much saturated fat and sodium on top of the funnel cake without punishment. You better eat healthy tonight." I rolled my eyes and nodded.

Carlos gave me a weird look that I ignored, because Mr. Solomon was talking again.

"The three girls who're going to be at the fair are Cameron Morgan, Elizabeth Sutton and Rebecca Baxter. They'll be there Monday night, so tonight, you're going to be memorizing the layout of the fair and attempting to tail Mr. Smith. He has no clue you'll be trying, so find his new disguise, tail him back to Gallagher _without_ him noticing. Do your best." He pushed back and left, after dropping a manila file on the table.

Will grabbed it and pulled out three pictures. One was of an African American girl, one of a blonde girl with a reddish skin (I'm guessing either she's a football fan and covered herself in paint that didn't completely come off or she'd been near water without a sunscreen and gotten burned from the water's reflection) and an pretty brunette girl.

DeeDee took the folder and found the agent information.

"Okay, that girl-" she pointed to the black girl "-is Rebecca Baxter. She's British so she's not African American. She's sixteen and is known for being really good in fights, but not the greatest at desk stuff. Will, you tail her. The blonde one, that's Elizabeth Sutton. She's fifteen, and she's a genius, not so good at the field stuff, and would probably be better off on the office track. I'll tail her. The last one's Cameron Morgan, and she's fifteen. She's the headmistress's daughter, and she's known for being good at blending in. Carlos, you take her. Andi, you okay with being base?"

"Yeah, sure." Base meant you stayed back and ran comms, giving instructions and listening to the opposing side's comms if you could hack in, and basically talking your team through everything. I'd probably go to the fair and fake a stomachache or some kind of emergency, then set up shop in the library. We had a hidden room there with all our equipment, as well as in sublevel 7 at Gallagher. We usually use the library one unless it's something big—then we go for the Gallagher one.

Okay, here's the lowdown on the 3Ps.

Carlos is our chameleon, for lack of a better term. He's the recon man, the one who scopes out the area and returns with a preliminary report. He can blend anywhere, unfortunately for him. We made him invade a Girl Scout ceremony a couple years back. We've still got pictures from that and it's excellent blackmail. Not to mention that he actually looked cute as a girl. Sometimes, when there's a female agent we need to charm, either Will or Carlos goes in, depending if they go for the darker type (Carlos) or the American type (Will). Anyway, after Carlos does recon, Will's our muscle.

Will is the best at martial arts, defense, torture, you name it and its physical activity, Will's almost guaranteed to be good at it. If we need brute force, we call on him. He doesn't have much tact, though. If we need tact or delicacy in any situation, we send in DeeDee.

DeeDee's our information gatherer, or seductress and con artist, if you want to get way technical. She hates being called that, so we stick with information gatherer. She can get information out of anybody whatsoever, be it the president or that hobo in the back alley. She's a gossip queen—if it's a rumor, she's already heard it. She's everyone's best friend—they tell her everything. And if it's not in the rumor mill, she just talks to people. They'll give information to her willingly, and if they don't, that falls to Will, if it's a person, or me, if we need a password. The only real exceptions to her charm are kids and animals—she practically lives by the saying, "Never work with children or animals," only she's added more. "Never work with children or animals because they will see right through you and report you to the police and/or bite you, leaving scars, especially the toddlers." Like Carlos, she's a bit of a chameleon (like I mentioned before; wallflower) but still.

As for me, I'm our computer and tech whiz. I create the gear we use, hack into computers to find enemy information. Memory modification tea? I was four when I invented it and accidentally wiped my mom's memory. Comm set in a necklace? I was six. I hacked into the FBI when I was three. First time bomb? Um. We don't like talking about that…it's really best not to bring it up. Let's just go with "there's a reason they don't trust me with explosives." It's also item number sixty eight on my list.

I kinda think I'm the most worthless on the team—anyone could create gadgets and listen to radio chatter…but the rest of the team has inborn skill, and I most definitely do not. I've never told this to anyone else—they think I'm quite confident in my abilities, when I'm quite sure I'm not that good.

Back to the 101.

"So that's settled then. Okay, this afternoon's schedule. We're going to do a lap to Gallagher and back, then P&E for an hour, and then we've got to start working on the new Computer Science correspondence course or we're going to fall behind, and Mr. Solomon expects us to have that new maneuver down by next week…God, we've got a lot to do. I knew that day off wasn't a good idea!" DeeDee muttered, sounding slightly deranged, gulping down some of her milkshake.

Will scooted away from her just a bit.

"I can't do the P&E…baseball practice." Will cringed, and DeeDee closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.

"Okay. Go do your baseball. You already know what we're going to learn today…I just want the Helinksi maneuver perfected."

I ate a fry and fiddled with the hem of my shirt, soaking in the fifties music that kept us from having an awkward silence.

Not much of note happened other than Carlos pulling me to his side and Will hugging DeeDee protectively when some out-of-towners tried to flirt with me and DeeDee. That's pretty much the reach and range of our affection for each other—we care too much about the work we do to endanger it with stupid things like falling in love. We keep our partners from dating other people outside 3P as well because that will end up a mess (as evidenced by the Joe Solomon and Willow Dasnii incident or the Abby Cameron and Keith Young incident) so we just keep out of it.

Also: Never, ever, ever share food with teenage boys. They will eat it all and practically bite you if you try to take any.

Finally, once we all finished and had paid, we headed out. DeeDee and I stopped at her house to change, and the boys changed at Will's house.

The next four hours were boring and painful, but at least it was something to do.

.


End file.
